


Concilliabule

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sorry Rhaella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Concilliabule:</p><p>A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concilliabule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casterlyqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casterlyqueen/gifts).



Aerys loathes the word  _madness._ It’s followed him around like a dog nipping at his heels since his very first nameday, always waiting for him just around the bends in the Red Keep’s corridors, whispering his name from the highest folds of his heavy red curtains.

He’s gotten quite adept, as a Prince ought to be, at finding a reason for his every thought and feeling.  When he screams at Rhaella so loud she cries, but afterward he isn’t certain why he was even angry, why, it’s just because he has dragon’s blood bubbling in his veins—he’s a walking Dragonmont.  When he lies awake in bed till first light, unable to sleep for the stories that go through his mind, it’s only because he might someday have the powers of the sorcerers in his past, able to see and understand all things in the future.  And when he can tell the rustle of Joanna Lannister’s skirts apart from all the other skirts in the Red Keep, it must be love.  What else could it be?

"Lady Lannister," he says as two warm hands cover his eyes.

"I was trying to surprise you."  Even her voice is beautiful.  In their quietest, most private moments, it drops, low and rich.  Aerys imagines he is the only person to ever hear that voice.

"Even if I didn’t know the sound of your skirts," Aerys says, grabbing at her hands and turning to face her, "you think I wouldn’t know how your hands feel?  What sort of  _lover_ do you think I am, Lady Lannister?”

"One soon to be wed, with no more time for these games," Joanna laughs, slapping at his arms as he pulls her into a dark, cobwebbed staircase no-one but spiders ever seems to use.

"A Prince can always make time," Aerys says, pressing her shoulders so that she sits; she pulls on his hips and he falls atop her.  "Isn’t that what we’re here to discuss?"

"Oh yes, your wedding night."  Joanna arches her back as he pulls on the neckline of her dress and begins to suck and nibble softly on the swell of her breast.  "You think I’ve forgotten the plan?"

"Perhaps."

"You know I don’t  _forget_  things.  You just want to hear me say it again.”

"Perhaps."  Joanna’s heart beats against his ear; it beats almost as fast as his, he thinks.

"Your sister will ask me how I got the marks you are giving me," Joanna says, her thumb tracing his jawline softly, as though she treasures it.  "What do I tell her?  She’s nowhere near as stupid as you complain she is.  She’ll ask about it until I say something."

"Tell her whatever you like," Aerys says.  He rubs his cheek against her breast, feeling her nipple harden, and begins to work his hand up her skirts and underneath her smallclothes.  "She’s marrying a Prince.  She has no right to complain."

Joanna hits him in the head.  ”She’s already a  _Princess_ , you— _oh!_ "  Aerys smiles so wide his teeth show as he slides two fingers up her cunt.  He can’t imagine anything better than how wet she gets for him.  It is good he won’t have to give it up.

"What were you saying, Lady Lannister?" Aerys says, shifting his hips slightly forward so she can easily reach his laces.  "That thing you may have forgotten."

"To the seven hells with you, Aerys," Joanna breathes, her hands never fumbling on his laces even as her thighs part further for him.  Joanna is the steadiest person he has known.  With her, everything he fears seems like nothing but a nightmare from long ago.  "I didn’t  _forget._ ”

"What will you be doing on my wedding night, then?"  His head snaps back as her hand curls around his cock, feeling almost like a  _demand_.  ”Tell me.”

"After the bedding, I am to go to my bedchamber and wait for you." Aerys is so lost in the pleasure that his legs are weak and easy to topple.  Joanna pushes and then she sits atop him.  His fine hair is getting into the cobwebs and dust that collect on the stairs, but it matters not, nothing matters but the heat of Joanna’s cunt as she moves atop him, brushing against his tip but never sinking down onto his length, damn her, damn her—

"And?"

"I’ll be in my shift and smallclothes.  Waiting for you."

"And?"

"I will wait for you until you come to my door.  And then we’ll celebrate."

"I’ll rip your clothes off."

"You’ll rip my clothes off."  Her cunt is growing slicker; her breathing labored.  Aerys’s hands claw at her back.  He is so close to begging.  Targaryens do not beg.  Princes do not beg.  But Aerys Targaryen might beg Joanna Lannister.

"You’ll be naked before me."  Aerys grasps her hips to shove them down and put an end to this torment,  but Joanna suddenly stands and begins to fix her skirts, leaving him open-mouthed.

"It will be an honor," Joanna says.  "But right now I must serve your sister the Princess, and I can’t have my skirts looking like an unused staircase, much less talk of these matters."  She leans down and kisses Aerys on the mouth, her lips parted just enough for her tongue to brush his.

And then she is gone, her skirts rustling away down the corridor until there is no more Joanna.

It takes Aerys quite a while to catch his breath; when he can finally stand again, he thinks he might go find some wine to calm his nerves.

Perhaps love and madness are just two sides of the same damn thing.


End file.
